Only Dead Things are Welcome Here
by Asylum Martyr
Summary: "You left me all alone. I tried, I really did...I tried so hard..."  Rated T for character death and suicide. OOC warning. UPDATE: Keswick's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**I know this is terribly OOC, but it was for the sake of experimenting with the characters in an extreme situation. What happened before now should be clear enough, originally Kitty was going to have a flashback sequence...but, it stole away from the main reason I kept the repeating phrases. Her utter insanity was what I wanted. Not her road to it. **

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><p>Snow littered the ground, bitter frost killing the sparse grass that once grew there. Maybe it was because that place was stained with the scent of death. The odor clung to the air as thick as smoke, sour and revolting. It all made sense to her, though. Because only dead things were welcome here. Only dead things were welcome here...<p>

Trees where whipped about by the snapping wind, scattering the dead leaves that littered that barren, frozen ground. Those same trees were stripped bare, even the bark wearing away at the ferocity of the weather. But some good came of that, she guessed. Air slithered through the branches of these trees, and created such a sad lullaby. Such a sad lullaby...

Little stones and statues of angels guarded this place. Wrought iron gates kept intruders away. But why guard what is lost and gone? She never did understand this. Large tombs littered some of the far off hills, a chapel just over a mile eastward. This place was large, she noticed. As she thought, the wind gave an unsteady falter. The eerie silence distilled in her ears. The eerie silence distilled in her ears...

Soon, she was saved. The wind began to cry again, more powerful than ever before. Hunched over the tombstone, she sat. Her hands gripped the sides of it so harshly that her fingernails cracked and bled. Her shoulders shook with her powerful sobs, her cries of pain and agony lost in the wailing, howling wind. The wailing wind that made such a sad tune. Such a sad tune...

She was faithful to him, she was. His body which was hidden beneath that stagnate, sterile ground, and she was faithful to it. She came here everyday, his voice ringing in her ears. And even when she left, he stayed by her side, just like before. Laying awake at night and hearing him, whispers that bounced off the walls of her bedroom loud enough for her to hear, but too soft to make out the words. And every night, not knowing what he was whispering made her snap even more, to the point of rocking back and forth with her hands pressed to her ears to try and drown out the sound. But it only made him louder, and her wails couldn't make him stop. Her wails couldn't make him stop...

He haunted her. Every step, every movement she made, she felt him. She remembered his embrace, and when she felt everything fall apart day by day, she could feel it again. She knew his touch, and when she cried every morning she woke up and realized he was gone, she felt it. She knew his voice, and every day when she was awake, she heard it. She knew he followed her. And everyone thought she was crazy, but she wasn't. They all thought she was too depressed, but she wasn't. She was perfectly sane, they just didn't know it. They just didn't know it…

Everywhere she saw him, everywhere she heard him, and everywhere she felt him. She tried, she really did, and she hoped he understood. But if he did, why did he keep terrorizing her so? Why did he stalk her like a shadow, and leave her to bawl her eyes out alone? Why did he break her heart in two every single time he talked against the white noise of her stereo? Why...? Why...? Maybe she was crazy, like all the others said when they thought she wasn't listening. Maybe she was crazy…

How could she be insane, though? She was a perfectly functioning and healthy cat, why should they think otherwise?

_Because you cry constantly.  
><em>His voice pierced her brain as she thought, making her clench the tombstone harder, biting her lip until she felt the familiar metallic tang of blood on her tongue.  
><em>Because you hear me.<br>_A whimper escaped her throat, and she furrowed her brow. He was right.  
><em>Because you can't forgive yourself.<br>_And that's where she lost it. She completely gave up, then and there. With all that she had left in her body, she wept. Saying sorry for all she did, hoping they would forgive her when they found out. Hoping they would forgive her…

The sobs made her shoulders shiver; her body convulsing with the terrible pain that had been tearing her apart for an entire year. Her heart twisted in her chest, her hands gripping the granite slab tighter. She was broken, shattered, helpless. For as skilled as she had been, it wasn't enough to keep her from losing her mind. Somewhere in her subconscience, she knew she was insane. Her last grip to sanity was hoping time took away the pain...but time only made it worse. Time only made it worse...

So, he won. He, with one simple failure, managed to rip her entire life apart. Her tears warmed her face, the streams more fluent now. She was in pieces the day he died right up until now, but she knew no one saw it for what it really was. They thought she could be put back together. They thought duct tape and glue could repair her. They thought she was fixable. They thought she was fixable...

The truth, in all its agonized truth, was that she couldn't be repaired. She simply could not be fixed. Her entire entity was broken, splintered, some shards of her missing entirely. Those broken pieces built her as Kitty Katswell, the well known and best TUFF agent around. But now, as they lay in disarray throughout her split mind, they built her as she is now. Afraid, depressed, agonized, terrorized, lonely... Lonely...

One last glance...just one... She tore herself away from his tombstone, looking at the text so neatly carved into the dark gray mineral. Through her bleary eyes, almost nothing could be made out. But she knew the writing by heart. She knew the writing by heart...

_R.I.P._

_Dudley Puppy_

_May 15, 1988-December 25, 2009_

_May you find peace, through self sacrifice, you have been saved..._

Self-sacrifice... The word made her slump over, her head tilted to see the dead grass beneath her knees, the thin sheet of snow forming around her. Just beneath her, he lay. She remembered what he looked like the day they had him on display... Fur lost of the same sheen it always had, his eyes shut in peaceful labor, his mouth flat... But he still had that bullet wound...and she knew where it was when no one else did. He died, because she wasn't fast enough... she couldn't stop him... She couldn't save him... He died because of her. She killed him. She killed him...

_You didn't kill me. I saved you._

Her eyes widened, and she looked around, his voice ringing in her ears. But she had to explain herself before she joined him, to make sure he wouldn't be mad at her. So she shook her head, a delicate smile pulling at her lips.

"I killed you. I-I could have done something, anything, had I not dropped my gun..."

_But I saved you. So you could live. You can't do this, Kitty. I can't see you do this..._

Her brow furrowed, a full smile of insanity now resting upon her lips. The December chill made her hands numb, but she didn't care. She would never let go of this tombstone, not now, not ever... Not ever...

"You died, Dudley... You left me all alone. I tried, I really did...I tried so hard..."

_I know you did. But keep pushing through, and you will find-_

"No! Nothing's made me feel better, everyone's... called me crazy!" She looked hurt, her eyes showing her desperation for an escape from this grey world. "They all said I could get better...but I've only gotten worse."

_But you need to live...you can't join me yet._

"Why..? I'm miserable here, I can't stand this...I've...I've nothing left to live for."

_But I love you too much to let you die. _

"I could have said the same, but it wouldn't have changed anything..." She whimpered back. She knew that would strike the chord of sympathy in him.

_I... I'll be waiting for you, Kitty. I promise. _

That one sentence made her mind up for her. He was waiting! She could see him again, and she would no longer feel her hair stand on end by his ghostly presence. She could hold him, like she always had. She could save herself from this insanity...she could make everything better...she could make herself whole. She could make herself whole...

She was prepared. With a shivering hand, she pulled a small bottle from her suit pocket. She looked at the orange-tinted bottle of white powder. They all want to call her crazy? So be it. She'll prove them right. With a skilled hand, she popped the lid off the bottle. She would be able to see him soon... It will only hurt for a second. It will only hurt for a second...

Lifting the bottle to her lips, she swiftly swallowed the fine powdered chemical. Immediately, she felt her oxygen being cut. Her body gasped for air, her stomach pushing against her. She coughed, blood splattering his tombstone, her head feeling light. She coughed more violently, full-formed clots falling onto the ground. Her head was spinning, chest tightening. She couldn't breathe anymore. She couldn't breathe anymore...

Her throat closed, and she let a single tear of fear escape her eyes. She was going to die... But she would see him again. That faint hope of being with him happily for all eternity took that little bit of fear away. If she was crazy and nothing awaited her but a long, long, sleep...she would dream of him instead. Dream of the life she could have lived. She gagged again, her chest feeling like it was being ripped apart. She felt blood vessels and capillaries burst, her aching brain starved of oxygen. Her eyes sagged, and she felt herself giving up. She felt herself giving up...

Collapsing against the upright-marker, she fought for air. She looked straight ahead, and she could see him... He was so close, and she smiled her first genuine smile in a long time. He grinned back, holding out a hand for her take. She lifted a weak arm with the last bit of energy she had, reaching towards him. "Dudley..." she whispered, her body finally giving in against the poison. Her arm fell suddenly, draped over the headstone. Blood still oozed from her mouth, and stained the snow and rock. But that was destined. Only dead things were welcome there. Only dead things were welcome there...

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><p><strong>Didja like it? The repeating phrases, in case to some it is unclear, were in reference to Kitty's broken mind. The repetition of phrases is an identifier of some mental illnesses, so I used it. I think she developed a kind of paranoid schizophrenia, others can say Dudley's really a ghost. Take your pick. <strong>


	2. Why Were Only Dead Things Welcome There?

_Why were only dead things welcome there?_

Keswick's POV during the first chapter, and a little bit of inside into the past and his thinking. I know its still OOC, but my friend who requested the original chapter wanted this little continuation. Thank you so much for all of your kind reviews, by the way!

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><p>Wind lashed ferociously against the building. Pounding the windows, shoving the trees, and shrieking at no one in particular. Snow was tossed about, littering the ground in uneven gusts. The people frowned inside, where there was heat and protection. This Christmas was not being enjoyable. So, like almost everyone else with nothing to do but wait, he sat. His fingers tapped the metallic table impatiently, casting frantic glances at the clock. <em>4:52 PM. <em>Keswick scowled, she was late. And she was _never _late. Never.

Keswick sighed, leaning back in his chair. It was 4:52 PM on Christmas day, and Kitty was late. Three hours late, to be more precise. And that's what worried him.

This year had been hard on them all; even he had to take some counseling. Chief kept more to himself now, often whispering in hushed tones to someone invisible to their eye, constantly glancing behind him as if another was eavesdropping. Despite this, everyone made progress with their sadness. Everyone, that is, except Kitty.

Kitty, who was three hours late. Who spent all her time crying, trying desperately to talk to him even though she knew he was gone. Bags under her eyes confirmed her lack of sleep, and she often focused on a point far off in the distance, watching a scene unfold with regret weighing heavy in her eyes. When she came back to reality, she jumped and cringed at touches and embraces given by wind and air.

But Keswick would be stupid if he said he never felt the hair-rising presence around her desk. Everyone felt it. That was why no one complained when she went to visit his grave every day, it simply was ignored. She would leave at lunch, come back in an hour, her fingernails dripping blood as she walked without purpose. In return for the allowed time, she always came back, but this time she didn't. She was late. And he was worried.

Well over a few times, she was caught trying to kill herself. Every other day, it seemed, two agents had to drag her kicking and screaming, tears pouring out of her eyes, to the elevator to take her to the infirmary on the third floor. She would cry out the same words each time, _"You don't understand! Let me go, dammit! __**Let. Me. Go!**__" _Then, as if someone had crushed her very soul, the struggling would cease. She would fall deathly quiet, pupils dilating as she stared off into that invisible point again. Then, she would mutter in monotone: _"I'm sorry...just don't let him get me." _And finally, as if on cue, she would lose consciousness as they reached the elevator. Body draped over itself, sagged down, and hair disheveled.

It happened time and time again, without fail. In fact, if it didn't happen for about a week, the agents would start to get worried... Then, Keswick's eyes widened. He remembered her most recent episode...

Kitty had been sitting at her desk, silently murmuring to that eerie presence beside her. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, eyes fixed on her computer screen in fascination as her keyboard clacked. Words appeared slowly on the screen, and after a moment her eyes widened. She watched the screen for a moment, the words registering in her head.

_Kitty,_

_I see you._

_Look at you._

_Look at yourself._

_You don't understand._

_Outside the Earth, it's different._

_Up here, all alone._

_Remember what happened._

_See?_

_Even though I don't blame you,_

_Let go,_

_Forgive the past, and join me. _

She jumped out of her chair, a shrill cry of horror seeping out of her mouth in a long drawn-out wail that pierced the air, slashing through it with razor sharp claws of fear. Immediately, agents jumped to their feet. They gripped her flailing arms, which swung left and right. She kicked, punched, scratched, and shoved at anything she could find. Her claws sank themselves into her own flesh, drawing blood from wounds she _accidentally _gave herself.

Eventually, the agents restraining her became too overwhelming. Through the mob struggling to get a grip on her flailing limbs, she shouted, _"You don't understand! He wants me dead! I said I was sorry so many times! FORGIVE ME, PLEASE!" _Her voice raised at the last word, forcing all of her emotions into it. All the fight she had in her went to that final sound, still resonating in the air. It dripped with her agony and confusion, desperation and loneliness. The agents looked at one another, her pleading pushing against their emotions. Her cries and tiny wails of torment only vanished when they got her to the elevator, where they just dissolved into loud sobs.

Of course, no one had seen it. But Keswick did. He monitored all the typing done, and saw the exact same thing she did. _Kill yourself. _The only thing that kept the bubbling feeling of utter terror from seeping up through his body was gripping the arms of his chair. This feeling, this indescribable amount of paranoia and anxiety, it was what Kitty felt daily.

He sighed, back in the realm of Christmas day. It was 4:52 PM, Kitty was late, and it was the anniversary of his death. No doubt she would want to spend extra time at his grave today, but still. He had to go check on her, if anything, to make himself feel better. He needed to see her safe, make sure she didn't do anything brash. Jumping up from the table, Keswick bolted down to the garage, and into his car. Switching the ignition, his eyes narrowed, fear crawling up his spine. It was now or never. He needed to see Kitty without a scratch on her face, or blood on her shirt. She _could _get better. She could be...fixed?

_Put back together with duct tape and glue?_

"No," Keswick finally realized, hand hovering over his key. Shame weighed heavily in his chest, making him bite his lip. They all thought she could be..._fixed_, repaired and put back together as if nothing ever happened. He now knew it was fruitless, each passing moment she deteriorated. Her personality and sanity crumbled and tumbled until now. Until there was nothing left to lose. Until there was nothing left but a few scattered shards. Still, he had to go see. See the choice she finally decided to make.

The drive was cold, bitter, and ruthless. More than a few times, images flashed before his eyes just for a moment, but long enough to tell what was happening.

_Hunched over the tombstone, she sat. Her hands gripped the sides of it so harshly that her fingernails cracked and bled. Her shoulders shook with powerful sobs, her cries of pain and agony lost in the wailing, howling wind._

This new viewpoint, the vantage of a watcher that can do nothing, made tears spring to Keswick's eyes. She was lost and hopeless, and no one could do anything about it. Not him, not Chief, not anyone. _Not anymore, anyways... _He thought sadly. She was off in the middle of a cemetery, watching as her life crashed down around her in harsh reality. Trying his best to tune out her thoughts, Keswick gritted his teeth.

Another part of her life flashed before his eyes. Only this one was different... He wasn't on the outside looking in. He wasn't watching Kitty, he _was _Kitty, a silent invader in her mind.

_"No! Nothing's made me feel better, everyone's... called me crazy!" She looked hurt, her eyes showing her desperation for an escape from this gray world. "They all said I could get better...but I've only gotten worse." _

Cold against her skin, the emotions that swirled around her brain, the flash of her life in his eyes, it all left Keswick dazed. The mix of a different life in his made him want to hurl, his stomach twisting and knotting at the foreign feeling. He stopped short with a gasp, looking up as the cemetery gates loomed before him. The bubble of uneasiness in his stomach churned more, he could finally see the choice she made. The choice to live, to try and be happy although so much had been lost. Or the choice to end all the pain and suffering in a swift deliverance of death.

_Don't waste time. _His brain growled at him, and leaped out of the car and sprinted towards the large gates. A lot of the time they had a thick, wrought-iron chain locked around them, but Kitty picked the lock every time. The chains were sagged against the gate, waiting to seal the tombs once more. The clouds cast dark shadows over the metal, thick with dirt and grime. Keswick cringed at the un-oiled hinges as they creaked and groaned under the force of the moving gate.

As soon as a crack big enough for him to slip through, he bolted. Feet thumping over the dirt, crushing the ferns and grasses that barely clung to life. Little pants and breaths creating clouds and puffs of smoke in the air before vanishing into the atmosphere. Finally, he slowed, eyes widening in dismay as he finally skidded to a stop.

The wind circled about her, snow cascading down around her in swirls. Some caught in her pitch-black hair, making it look like a starry night sky. Her once bright green eyes were half shut in dreamy delirium, the haze turning them into a milky pastel. Clutched tightly in her hand was a little orange bottle, with a small white lid. It was raised as if she had just taken it out of her pocket, arm locked as she tried to decide what to do.

Keswick wanted more than anything to jump forward and knock the bottle from her hand and screech "No, don't do this!" However, it was her decision to make. Something seemed to be pulling him back, a little voice whispering in his head, _let her decide. _

Those murky algae green eyes flashed. She was trapped. Trapped in a realm where she didn't know what was real and what wasn't anymore. Held captive in the projections, false images, and _lies _her brain used to try and hold her together.

But the lies hadn't worked. Kitty now saw through the facade. She knew she couldn't cope with the world, not anymore. She knew one little imbalance would be enough. Enough to send her spiraling out of control, to shatter the little bit of the world she still had left. And she didn't like feeling this trapped, this confined, and this alone.

Keswick stood back, muscles tensed and rigid. With a fluid motion of her hand, she popped the lid off the bottle, raising it to her mouth. He bit his lips in anticipation, the soft metallic tang of blood hitting his tongue. Kitty trembled as she swallowed the contents of the bottle, her eyes widening. Almost immediately she coughed, the bottle dropping to the ground, forgotten.

Convulsions began to wrack through her body, the coughing getting more spluttered. The tombstone was covered in blood, and she gasped as she tried to breathe. She coughed again, crimson staining the grass and grave. She leaned her cheek against the top of the granite in exhaustion, gasps and pants showing her struggles.

A single tear slipped from Keswick's eye, his brain told him to stay put. His heart said to save her. But he couldn't...if she truly wanted to die, he would honor her decision. Just as she had to honor Dudley's the day he died.

Her face was contorted into a scowl of pain and agony, but also solace. She found comfort in her imminent demise. But for a second, the comfort faded, and fear slashed in her eyes. A lonely tear dripped from the milky slits, before calm condolence replaced it.

Her chest was moving rapidly now. Her eyes looked completely red, the capillaries and blood vessels were beginning to burst. Her chest heaved, gasping for air, gripping to life. _Don't fight it._ Keswick thought, his chest turning and twitching at the sight before him. She was his friend. She was a coworker. She was family. Kitty's body quavered, the harsh convulsions easing into a gentle spasm. Her eyes fixated on something distant, yet close. Her arm, white glove splattered with blood, reached for something just in front of her.

"Dudley..." She whispered, hoarse and cracking, a small smile gracing her lips. Her arm dropped, her eyes turned to the sky in a welcoming stare. Her mouth twisted upwards ever so gently, her body draped precariously over the tombstone. Keswick sighed, as one last tear escaped his eye. Kitty was dead now, took her own life in despondent despair. She wouldn't come back. She'd never come back. Gently stepping over the marked graves, he plucked his way over to the still body of Kitty. The wind dropped, now, to a steady whisper. Barely snaking through the tree branches, it created a whistle of mourning to the cemetery. Her slumped shape and ruffled appearance did not hide the suffering she went through to finally die. To finally be free. To finally be happy.

The word seemed so foreign, _happy_. It rolled of his tongue, dripping with false saccharine promises. Saying it over and over in his head, he began to like the word once more. As he thought, a grin stole at the corners of Keswick's mouth. She was finally going to be happy. And for the first time in a long time, he was happy, too. Overjoyed, really. Even though a splinter still jabbed his chest at the fact Kitty was dead, she hadn't died in vein. At this thought, laughter bounced on the wind. The sweet laugh of a happy woman intermingled with the cries of delight from a lonely man. The jingle of happiness wafting on the air was a sweet reminder of the afterlife that existed.

_I should radio Chief..._ he thought, but it was interrupted as an unnatural chill crawled up his arm. The coldness intensified, and two light touches grazed his shoulders. The air changed again, feeling warm and welcome, happy and delighted. He smiled, rejoicing in the feel of his two friends once more. When a small gust of wind wrapped around him, he realized they were gone, and smiled. They'd be happier now, after that year apart.

Working up the nerve to face it, Keswick glanced at Kitty's body. His heart still twisted, but he could look at her. _You've been dead longer than a few minutes haven't you? _Keswick pondered, a frown pulling at his lips. _You've been dead since you saw Dudley die... _When it happened, it was perceived as a valiant effort to keep Kitty alive.

_Your method didn't work... _Keswick scowled, looking at the sky as the clouds darkened and snow fell heavier. _She was still dead inside, and only dead things are welcome here. _Upon that muse, which didn't seem like his own, Keswick turned on his heel. Grass crunched in resentment beneath his feet as he walked through the gate, leaving behind the walking dead. After all, weren't only dead things welcome there?

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><p>Okay, I just need to apologize for resubmitting this chapter a lot. DX I keep finding little errors and it ticks me off. So, I apologize Fanfiction users. Forgive me?<p>

Also, this technically isn't complete. I have one last surprise, but it won't be done for a while. XD


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